Scars
by tir-synni
Summary: Ling's emperor, Alphonse's whole, and Edward still can't let go. LingEd


Title: Scars  
Pairing: Ling/Ed  
Warnings: angst, alcohol, manga spoilers  
A/N: Based on the song "Scars" by PapaRoach.  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Ling's emperor, Alphonse's whole, and Edward still can't let go.

Scars

Fuck, Edward hated whiskey. It burned all the way down and seared his stomach. Only a couple gulps made him dizzy and sick, and the next day he always spent the entire morning and a good chunk of the afternoon worshiping the porcelain god.

But it was quick and easy and damn, Edward needed _some_ type of escape _now_.

Leaning against his dormroom door, Edward held the bottle to his lips again and gulped the strong liquor. It only took a few swallows before his gag reflex kicked in and his mouth began salivating uncontrollably, but he already had a buzz. Wouldn't take too long before he was completely smashed.

"F-fuck," he slurred. See? Already halfway there.

Edward's hand shook a little as he raised the bottle again. If Alphonse were here right now, he'd be shouting at his big brother, calling him ten different kinds of idiot. But Alphonse was gone, safe and whole in Rizenbul where he should be. Edward had told him that he could handle this alone, and he could . . . he could he could he _could_, dammit!

The bottle sloshed as Edward almost dropped it, and Edward snarled. Then he snarled at himself at the hitch in his voice.

Something tapped the door above his head, and Edward angrily pulled the bottle to his lips again. He barely managed a sip before he almost dropped it again. The tap returned, quick and insistent, and Edward glared at the bottle. It wasn't even half empty yet. Damn.

"Edward. I know you're there. Let me in."

Edward had expected this. Bringing his legs to his chest, he hugged his knees with one arm. Unfortunately, he had expected to be drunk by this time. Fuck, he had expected that voice to be different, too. Full of bravado and arrogance and enough shit to remind Edward why he hated him. Instead, all he could hear was a subdued despair.

Not worthy of an emperor.

"Go away," he said aloud, staring at the bottle. The pale liquid mocked him. "There's nothing to talk about."

His voice was clearer than he had expected, too. Edward swallowed.

"Yes, there is. Just open the door, Edward."

Ah, there was the strength to lift the bottle again. He tossed back a few swallows before slamming the bottle down. Less than half full now and he wanted to throw up.

"Edward, _please!_ Just let me try to explain."

It was so hard to make that man beg, Edward reflected, his head thunking back against the door. Yet Edward had heard Ling beg more since he had become emperor than any other time in their . . . acquaintance. Edward shook his head and closed his eyes. "Go away!" he shouted. His voice cracked a little. Taking a deep breath, Edward shouted again, "I don't want to talk to you!"

With his eyes closed, it was so easy to remember those mocking violet eyes and fanged sneer. Inhuman power, immortality, all promised in those alien eyes. Everything Ling had ever desired, offered on a silver platter. Of course the fool had snatched it up and never looked back . . . never wanted to give it up. He didn't need to go on some silly quest. He didn't need the Stone. He didn't need Edward's help. The Father had given it all to him. All he had to sacrifice was his humanity.

He hadn't even let Edward help him get it back.

"Edward—"

"You shouldn't be here!" The words tore out of Edward's throat. "Why don't you just go home?"

Silence answered. Edward shook his head again. He had offered to help! He had! And Ling had turned him down, confident in his own methods. But Edward hadn't stopped trying, unable to forget his lover behind those demonic eyes.

And what had that gotten him? An empty room and a whiskey bottle.

His eyes burned, and he wiped his dry cheeks. Damn it all to hell.

"Just let me in. Please. I want to talk with you."

Edward opened his eyes and stared sightlessly at the wall. He had told the bastard that he loved him. He had actually said it. And it didn't matter.

"Go home!" Edward snapped. The break in his voice stole the strength from his words. "I have to move on with my own life." He dragged in a breath. "And I don't want you in it."

Silence again. He wasn't sure when Ling left, but it didn't matter. He got what he had wanted. Ling had left him alone.

Edward threw the whiskey bottle across the room and cried.


End file.
